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Feora Isabel Swinth of Wulfswinth
“How dare you go behind my back and arrange a marriage between me and some stranger. Worse yet, you have the audacity to tell me about this only a week before the Grand Ball,” Feora retorts, her voice a mixture of hostility and underlying emotional pain. To say her father King Matthias was shocked by her uncharacteristic display of defiance was a bit of an understatement. His eyes noticeably widened at hearing her outburst. She could see the gears turning in his head as he scrambled for a suitable response.
“It’s too late now to back out. It would be improper,” he responded matter-of-factly. He waved his hand, signifying that he was done with this conversation. However, Feora was far from done.
“Yes because propriety is clearly your strong suite,” Feora snapped, adding insult to injury. “You really don’t know me at all! I have given up so much of myself for the good of this kingdom, and this is the thanks I get. I will not let some man control me and take this kingdom for his own! I am the heir to the throne, and I will be the one to rule, whether I am married or not!”
“YOU WILL DO AS I SAY, FEORA!!” Matthias roared as he slammed his hands on the table before him. Feora visibly flinched. Her father had never yelled at her before. Granted, she had never so openly defied him.
“I will keep up the pretense. Though, as far as I am concerned, our relationship is nothing but a formality,” she stated simply before exiting the room.
Truthfully Feora’s whole world had shattered that day, and now she was left to pick up the pieces. During the week that followed, she had gone through a whole range of emotions and self-analysis. Whatever confidence or defiance had transpired was hidden behind what felt like an even more guarded exterior. She was torn between duty and the need to control her own life. Well, she had plenty of time for contemplation during the time it took to get to Aciras.
It was a big relief that her father was not accompanying her on this “adventure.” In fact, she had only brought with her a handful of people: her two most trusted guards/chauffeurs Fitzroy and Maxwell, her handmaiden, and her stable hand. She was particularly happy that she was allowed to bring along her beloved Hanoverian gelding Frederick, hence why she required her personal stable hand.
As the castle of Aciras came into view, her nerves resurfaced with a vengeance. She felt like she could face certain death with relative ease, but faced with meeting her betrothed she was done for. She put her hands underneath her legs as they began to shake. Keep it together, Feora, she thought to herself as she took several calming breaths. By the time Fitzroy had the car parked in front of the castle and Maxwell offered his hand to help her get out, she had mostly regained her composure.
Her gold heels clicked lightly as she gracefully walked up the castle steps. She was dressed in a beautiful green and gold lace dress with her hair up in a braided bun. She had on small gold earrings in the shape of a wolf’s head, the emblem of her kingdom Wulfswinth. Her guards, in their military dress uniform flanked her on either side. She smiled kindly to the royal family of Aciras as well as Niklas and Mai as she approached them. “Greetings. I am Princess Feora Isabel Swinth of Wulfswinth. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” she stated before curtsying respectfully. “My gift to you for your hospitability is this finely made and perfectly usable hand-and-a-half sword.” Her guard Maxwell presented them the sword, drawing it out slightly to show them the quality of the blade. Feora curtsied one more time before heading inside.
She entered the room as gracefully and confidently as ever. That was until her eyes landed on her betrothed Prince Henry. Her step faltered. Crap, he’s already here. She fought the childish urges to hide behind her guards and avoid him at all cost.
